Cookies With Botard
Spread Sun rose, and Arkrest beat a bleary eye. A man slumped at a desk, in a musty, windowless room. Two candles shed ghost’s light upon the massive square bricks that loosely held together the crumbling walls of the Old East Library. A project abandoned to the slums of the eastern city when the people of the area became less and less literate, the ancient building stood like a small fortress among the empty lots and cool sea breezes. Botard sat at his desk like a bell tower made of noodles with too many pigeons perched atop its lofty ramparts. Drool stained papers were strewn about his collapsed form. He groaned, wallowing in zoning, intelligence reports, granary statistics, and the prayers and pleas of those destitute who had madly called onto the Lady of death for salvation. The Vix had exploded at an unprecedented rate. Dozens, perhaps even hundreds shambled like zombies each night to devour the sermons and the fish that Botard offered to the masses. Who could have ever anticipated the zealousness of the hungry? Well, I mean maybe a real priest. '' A knock on the door lifted his skull. “Seven, Engrad, don’t beat the fucking door down. What is it?” He wiped the sleep from his eyes. The goliath opened the door, clad in dark, loose clothing. The bleeding eye of the Vix was printed in white upon his tunic. The greatsword normally carried across his back was absent, Botard noticed. “Head.” “Take a chair, Engrad.” Botard slid over a dish of small, lumpy, and delightfully sweet cookies. “Have a fucking cookie.” Engrad quickly grabbed several morsels from the plate. Botard never failed to find amusement in the severity with which Engrad took the consumption of food. He acted as though he was in danger of starving at any given moment, and had a seemingly bottomless stomach to boot. ''I mean I guess it probably does take a lot of energy to power that beastly creature. Engrad munched and spoke, “The raid on the Red Six went well. Not a hit went down wrong, and we got a letter of resignation from Statto yesterday.” “Yeah? And the Skulls? Any more information?” The Laughing Skulls seemed to be the most deeply entrenched gang of thieves operating in Arkrest. Their men fought like buttered mules and were just as hard to catch. Botard briefly pictured Engrad trying to catch a buttered mule and smiled widely, savoring the thought. “Welp, we have nothing. It’s like they don’t have any friends, or any family, or if they do, they’ve kept them hidden from the rest of society pretty well.” He paused for a moment in thought. “I’ve gotta say though, that might be for the best. We checked out that lead on the elderly fisherwoman who supposedly mothered that fighter who gave us the slip in the Thirsty Wench. She broke Serra’s leg and fucked up my hand pretty bad with a pipe. Told us if we were friends of her son that we could shove our sandals up our asses.” “Damn, did you tell her about the shining glory of our lovely Lady Unquala? Sounds like the sort of person I want fighting by my side.” “Uhhhh…no.” Engrad squinted. Sometimes it was difficult to tell when Botard was serious, but he had begun to suspect that many of the “jokes” the other man were entirely earnest. “We left her alone. But I do have some good news. I got in contact with my old friend I told you about and he just loves the thought of flying our flags so to speak.” Engrad scratched the red beard he had quickly grown, “So one step closer to operation Murdermurder.” “Oh excellent. What a productive couple of days we’ve had. I actually managed to review some of these ‘Prayers’, the offerings have been very nice. This really isn’t a bad business.” Botard shuffled through some papers, “Some old guy says he has hundreds of old books in his attic that his explorer son used to read and he’ll donate ‘em, so that’s one step closer to being a real church.” “Mmmmm, quite a find.” Engrad leaned back in the leather chair and folded his legs. “I’ve got some more news though, not as good.” “Lay it on the table, my man.” “Well, as you know, I really don’t have any problem keeping the men in line.” He puffed out his chest as he spoke the words. “Obviously.” “But see, thing is, Laesya has been…I don’t know, I mean he says that the stuff he says is exactly what we believe in, but it’s different, you know? And I can’t really argue with him, he just talks his way around shit. Some of the men like him too so…I dunno. I just felt like you should know.” The fucking pacifist. Sweet Seven. '' “I mean if he gives you trouble just like…declare some dominance or something. Most of our men aren’t really that smart, I think they’d care more about that than like…stupid words. Pffff.” Botard rolled his eyes. “Well, I mean that’s kind of the problem.” He looked Botard in the eyes and suddenly the other man was an image of severity. “He’s just too fast. It might not be easy.” Their gaze lingered a bit longer as unspoken words passed. ''“He’s stronger than me. He’s dangerous.” “Well fuck. Ok, no problem. I’ll just use my stupid words and make sure he’s really on the same page as us.” Engrad nodded. “Ok good, because he’s definitely a good guy to have around.” He stood up and headed towards the door before doubling back and grabbing one more cookie for the road. “Oh by the way,” Botard raised an eyebrow in response. “Some guy named Dudard showed up. Says he’s your brother.” “Oh. Man, fuck that guy.” Category:Character lore